


home

by Inthesewords



Series: the long road [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27121696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inthesewords/pseuds/Inthesewords
Summary: “I know ya said you was feelin’ lost but…” he cautiously raises his eyes to look at her. “I know who you are.”Post-ep for 9.16: "The Storm"
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Series: the long road [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976890
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	home

With the snowball battle fought and won (by Judith; she makes sure the others know they lost), the makeshift family piles into the house, peeling off layers and boots as they go. Michonne turns to Carol. “I gotta get these rascals ready for bed, but make yourself at home.” 

Michonne then sneaks up to RJ, trying to pick him up as he giggles and wriggles out of her embrace. “All right, little man, it’s BATH time!” she says, starting to chase after him. Judith joins in on the chase, RJ squealing at their attempts to tickle him, snow coming off in drops as they disappear up the stairs.

Daryl turns to Carol as she shakes out her hair from beneath her hat.

She raises her eyebrows at him. “What? Is it bath time for me too?” she asks playfully, receiving a huff in return.

“Was thinkin’ more like… hot cocoa,” he responds.

She bursts out a laugh at that. “My my, Mr. Dixon, aren’t you full of surprises. Is this the kind of domesticity I can expect here?”

He plays along, wagging his eyebrows suggestively, wanting the moment to last, before beckoning her to follow him to the kitchen.

Daryl starts pulling out the cocoa supplies and Carol begins to wander around the space. Six years later, everything feels different. Lived in. Loved. The kids’ drawings are magneted to the fridge; Michonne has artwork hanging on the walls. “Love what you’ve done with the place.” 

Daryl looks up at that, seeing her slowly make her way around the room and out into the hallway. “Right. Forgot… it’s been a while, huh?” He turns back to the stove and turns it on. “Well, nothin’ but the muddy boot prints are mine. Came in a coupl’a months ago and crashed in the basement, and the arrangement sorta stuck. There’s a room upstairs that you can use, though.”

She makes her way back into the kitchen and points to one of the drawings on the fridge. “You’re sure this isn’t yours?”

“Nah,” he says, mouth lifting a little. “Mine’s way worse. Never make it onto the fridge.” 

She grins. “One day, pookie.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence as Daryl putters about the kitchen, putting their drinks together. Carol makes her way to the island countertop, leaning forward onto it and watching him work at the stove. After a few minutes, he slides a mug towards her across the granite, and she eases herself into one of the high top chairs. She blows into the steam of her mug and stirs the spoon as Daryl settles against the chair next to her, one leg still on the floor, always ready to escape. 

He surreptitiously watches her ringless hand as it continues making circles with the spoon in her cup. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Ezekiel.”

Carol’s hand pauses in its motion, before settling the spoon on the countertop. She blows once more on the beverage and cautiously takes a sip. Daryl turns his focus back to his own drink as he waits her out.

Sighing, she runs a hand through her hair, scratching her neck as she goes, before dropping it back to the countertop and fiddling with the spoon. “These last few months have been like… trying to walk through that snowstorm. Couldn’t see a foot in front of me, didn’t know where I was going. Or why.” She shrugs. “One day I woke up and realized that Henry was the only thing we had in common. That when it came down to it, he didn’t even know me.” She warms her hands around the sides of the mug. “Though I guess that’s not entirely his fault.”

Daryl hums. Looks like he wants to say something, but instead, settles fully into his chair and takes a sip of his cocoa. 

Carol shifts to gaze at him, putting her elbow on the countertop and leaning her head on her fist. Watches him as he slowly moves to mirror her position. 

She quirks her lip before taking another sip of her hot chocolate. “I love hot chocolate, you know. Love all chocolate, really.”

He scoffs. “No shit. Used ta make me steal some for ya on runs.”

Carol’s mouth drops in faux appall. “Excuse me, I never _made_ you. And it wasn’t stealing! Simply... keeping an eye out.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure. And keepin’ it out o’ the communal haul was just-“

“A kind and thoughtful gesture, for which I thank you again.”

He chuckles, looking down at the granite to hide his smile. 

She leans her head further into her hand, then squints at him as if trying to solve a puzzle. “What’s your favorite candy? Or movie? Or… anything?”

Daryl’s nose scrunches as he meets her gaze. “What is this, twenty questions?”

Her face drops a bit, and she ponders her spoon again as she goes back to stirring her drink. “No, I just… we all know each other so well in most ways, but in other ways… it’s like I don’t know you at all. And I want to.”

It’s silent for a moment until he nudges her foot with his. “You do.” Catches her eye as she looks back up. “But ya should know,” he says, matter-of-factly, “I prefer Sour Patch Kids.” 

She huffs. “Noted.” 

“And horror movies.”

“Well, that’s fortunate.”

He crosses his arms and fixes her with the same playful, scrutinizing look. “What about you? Got a favorite movie?” He looks her up and down. “Don’t tell me you were the romcom type.” 

Carol shakes her head dismissively. “Nah. Just hardcore porn.”

He barks out a laugh at that, turning red and ducking his head. She giggles, before starting to laugh uncontrollably at his clear abashedness. Holds her stomach as she continues to laugh. He starts to snicker along with her, enjoying the sound.

But after a minute, the laughter dies. As quickly as it came, her smile fades, until she looks miserable again as she stares into her cup. His own mirth sobers at the swift shift in mood. 

“Am I a terrible person?” She asks, still looking into her mug, her voice childlike. 

He stares at her, confused. “The hell you talkin’ about?” She purses her lips, and he softens his voice. “Course not.”

She shakes her head. “I mean, for enjoying myself. Enjoying this,” she says, gesturing vaguely at them drinking hot cocoa, before sighing heavily. “I lost my son and left my husband and so many people are _dead_ and others lost their community and I’m… here, with you. _Laughing_.” 

Daryl regards her, chewing the inside of his mouth, choosing his words. “Heard somethin’ once. That people die two deaths. Not like…” he clears his throat and shifts to face her full-on. “Not like with walkers. It’s when they die, and then when the last person that remembers ‘em dies.” He brings his hands around his mug. “If there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that livin’… living’s the only thing we’ve got to honor those we lost.” He glances up at her as he continues. “And if there’s anything I learned ‘bout Henry, it’s that he loved you. Wanted ta do right by everyone, includin’ you. So no. Ya ain’t terrible. You’re just… ‘njoying the life he cain’t.” 

She doesn’t respond. Daryl looks back down as he fiddles with the handle of his mug. “I know ya said you was feelin’ lost but…” he cautiously raises his eyes to look at her. “I know who you are.” 

Carol finally looks up at that, face near crumbling. 

“For what it’s worth,” he continues, holding her gaze, “m’glad you’re here.”

The tears she had been fighting a moment ago start to break free, and she brushes her sleeve across her eye swiftly before smiling gently. 

“Yeah,” she says, looking back at him. “It’s good to be home.” 

He smiles at the word, then scratches his neck. They lapse back into silence for a few more minutes, each slowly finishing the contents of their cups. 

Eventually, Daryl grunts. “S’gettin late.” He glances towards the stairs before turning back to her. “Need help gettin settled in your room?”

Carol gasps exaggeratedly and clutches her imaginary pearls. “Why, Mr. Dixon, are you offering to tuck me in?”

He snorts. “Stahp.”

They tidy up before parting ways in the hallway. She gives a wave before turning up the stairs, and he doesn’t need to pause to watch her go.

He knows he’ll see her tomorrow.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty certain that, in actuality, Lydia would be a consideration in this scene... but can someone explain to me what her living arrangement was when she comes back to Alexandria? Daryl is all Daddy Dixon to her, but she doesn't seem to live with them at first- after she spends a night in jail, Carol tells Lydia that she can stay with her, so WHERE WAS SHE STAYING BEFORE??? All the Alexandria living arrangements confuse me, as do the housing layouts, so I conveniently avoided them.


End file.
